


Leo

by invisible_nobody



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (only a little), (sorta) - Freeform, Angst, Childhood Trauma, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Might Add Another Chapter Later, Romance, no one asked but ye shall receive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:34:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisible_nobody/pseuds/invisible_nobody
Summary: TRIGGER WARNING: Abuse, R-SlurFitz does not like to be called Leo, but everyone keeps doing it anyways.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Leo

**Author's Note:**

> My sister and I saw multiple headcanons about Fitz not liking to be called 'Leo' (based on his reactions in the show) and so I figured I'd throw my hat into the ring as well. (We also have a headcanon that being very worked up/angry/frightened can make Fitz's stutter and hand tremors worse, which is us projecting our neurodiversity, so I sprinkled a bit of that in, too). Have fun, y'all :)
> 
> *Read with caution, see trigger warnings in the summary.**

He hated being called ‘Leo’.

It’s not that it was embarrassing or didn’t fit him or anything. No, it just had the unfortunate luck of having negative connotations in his life; it was attached to way too many memories that he would rather just move past. It gave him a sick feeling in his stomach, offense involuntarily clawing away inside his chest.

_ “Leo, what the hell is this?” _

Fitz rubbed his face, inhaling and exhaling the memories. “I’m-I’m sorry, ma’am. Could you repeat that, please?”

“I said that the paper is due Wednesday, no later.” his professor repeated, “Why? Did you have a question about it?”

He shook his head. “No, no. It’s fine. I got it. It’s a paper and… I need to, you know, write it.”

The teacher nodded and, hesitantly, moved onto the next part of the lesson. He took a deep breath. Fitz really liked this class, when he had first arrived at Sci-Tech. He’d seen it on the list of classes that he was allowed to take and he’d actually, literally, pumped his fist in the air. On the first day of class, nearly bouncing in his seat, the professor announced that she prefers to use first names in her classroom - her own and her students’. 

Fitz’s heart had hit the ground as if it were made of stone.

‘Leopold’, people had decided, was somehow too much of a mouthful to them. So it was always, “Nice to meet you, Leo”, and “Yes, you can have an extension, Leo - you have until Wednesday.”

He wished they would stop. He knew that they wouldn’t. His professor asked for volunteers and his hand shot into the air before he could stop it because  _ she  _ was watching. Damn it.

“I, uh… Can I try? To find a solution, that is.”

_ “I cannot believe that you are actually that stupid.” _

“Yes, of course, Leo.” she responded, “What do you think would be the quickest fix?”

\--- --- ---

_ “You have to be fucking kidding me!” _

_ Leopold hung his head. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” _

_ “What in the world would possess someone to do something like that?” his dad continued, “What could have possibly traveled through that tiny brain of yours to think of lighting a match and putting it in your mouth?” _

_ He sniffled. “I wanted to see what fire tasted like.” _

_ “What?” his father pinched the bridge of his nose, “Leo, you absolute retard! How could you-” _

_ “Alastair!” _

_ Leopold looked up and ran over to his mother, wrapping his arms around her and holding tight. “Mommy!” _

_ She ran her fingers through his hair. “What happened, sweetie? What did you do?” _

_ “I just wanted to know!” he whined. _

_ “Are you hurt?” she asked. He shook his head, and she smiled warmly down at him. “Then everything’s fine, honey.” _

\--- --- ---

“I’m just saying,” Jemma repeated, lying on her back on the bed, “that if the school can afford all of the technology that it requires in order to teach us, then it can afford to clean the bathrooms better.”

“Jemma…” Fitz dragged out her name, annoyance dripping from it, “they’re just bathrooms. People are only in there for, what, five minutes at a time?”

She scoffed and shot up straight. “They are  _ gross _ , Fitz!”

He leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Jemma sighed and leaned over the side of the bed, unzipping her bag. “Maybe boys just have a different tolerance level for dirtiness. It,” she glanced around the room, “sure would explain a lot.”

“Hey!” he exclaimed indignantly, “It’s not that bad in here. And if you don’t like it, then you can work on the essay in your own room.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Okay,  _ fine _ , Leo, then we can both watch our grades tank. Sounds like a great plan.”

He crossed his fingers, hoping that she didn’t notice him flinch.

“Since when do you care about your grades?”

No such luck.

Fitz crossed his arms and tried his best at a smile. “Well, maybe you’re rubbing off on me more than we thought.”

She blinked at him once, twice…

She didn’t catch it. 

\--- --- ---

_ Grrr... _

_ Leopold rubbed at his tummy. It was well past lunchtime, and he hadn’t had anything to eat in hours. He stood up from the comfy position he was in on the couch and made his way into the kitchen. There had to be a box of cereal or something around that he could reach. _

_ “What are you digging through the drawers for?” _

_ He froze, caught red-handed. He turned around slowly, the best ‘I’m sorry’ smile on his face that he could make, and hurried to think of something to say to his mother. “Snacks.” _

_ “Oh?” she replied, stepping closer, now smiling back at him, “And you didn’t think to ask first?” _

_ “Uhh,” he rocked on the balls of his feet and his heels, “can I please have some food, Mama?” _

_ She laughed, “Of course, sweetie. Let’s see what we have here...” _

_ CRONCH _

_ Leopold tilted his head and peeked out into the hallway, having no idea what made that sound. His mother froze in her tracks, momentarily, before breaking out of her stupor enough to grab his arm. She gripped it like her life depended on it. Leopold tried to yank his arm away, to unravel her fingers, to no avail. “Mommy, let go! That hurts!” _

_ “Shh!” she commanded, all the previous comedy from her voice suddenly gone. “Just stand here, Leopold. Stand here and be nice.” _

_ His father walked into the room not second later, and the first thing that Leopold took note of was the crumpled up can in his hand. He couldn’t read the label. _

_ “When’s dinner, Saundra?” he asked, not even sparing his son a glance, “Shouldn’t it have been started by now?” _

_ She kept her expression hard. “It’s still a little early, Alastair. Leopold and I were actually just out here looking for a snack, if you’d like-” _

_ Grrr... _

_ Both of his parents looked down and him and he smiled again, sheepishly, shrugging the best he could with his arm still being held tight. “What? I’m hungry and I didn’t get any lunch.” _

_ “Why don’t you make lunch for us both, then.” his father requested, “since you’re so prone to digging around in adult spaces.” _

_ “He’s  _ seven _ , dear,” his mother retorted, “he can’t make anything other than a PB&J.” _

_ He shook his head. “No, no - if Leo feels like he wants to be an adult and cook his own food, or go anywhere he chooses like last week, then we should damn-well let him.” _

_ “We went over this, all he did was take a walk down the street to grab a few things from the free-box outside of-” _

_ SLAP _

_ Leopold felt his stomach hit the ground, and his blood ran cold. _

_ “I said, we should damn-well let him.” his father repeated, “Was I not clear?” _

_ “Alastair-” _

_ Another slap, harder this time. He watched his mother whimper, rubbing her cheek where it was turning red. _

_ “Yes, sir.” _

_ His mother finally let go of his arm, her voice shaking when she spoke. “You can make some lunch for you and Dad, right Leopold? You’re a bright boy.” _

_ He nodded. “Yes, Mama.” _

_ “Good.” she smiled. _

_ His father grunted, walking back down the hall, and Leopold turned around and began rummaging through the cabinet again. _

\--- --- ---

Thirty-six hours of no sleep, but he’s almost finished it. 

“It’s almost ready for the first test.” he vocalized, “Probably just another couple hours.”

“Finally.” Jemma remarked, “Then you can actually get some sleep.”

He half-heartedly waved his hand at her. “Eh, I don’t need sleep. I’m fine.”

“Why do you always have to be like this,” she grumbled under her breath, and then spoke slowly, as if to a child, “Fitz, sleep is  _ good for you _ . Necessary, actually.”

Fitz rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know that - you never let me forget. However, that doesn’t mean I actually care that much.”

She shook her head. “One of these days, you are going to get  _ so sick _ . And when that day comes, you are not allowed to come whine to me about it. I won’t even feel bad.”

“Oh yeah?” he questioned, smirking, “I think you will.”

Jemma scoffed, looking up from her microscope. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Because you’re nice,” he replied, not missing a beat, “and empathetic.”

“I can be tough when I want to.” she grumbled, resuming her work. 

“Still here, huh?”

They both turned around to find none other than Wesley. Fitz didn’t even bother to pay him any mind, choosing instead to continue his project. Jemma, however, didn’t show the same restraint.

“Yes, we’re still working,” she replied, exasperated, “and you probably should be, too.”

He walked further into the room, as if he had been invited in, peering at some of the unfinished things around them. He didn’t touch anything - he worked there, he knew better than that - but he didn’t need to. The look on his face conveyed everything he was thinking. 

“Can you please just leave us to work?” Jemma continued, seeing that he was only going to continue to silently antagonize them. “The sooner Fitz finishes, the sooner he can  _ get some sleep _ .”

“I know that attitude was directed at me,” he finally spoke up, “and I do not appreciate it.”

Wesley  _ tsked _ . “Come now, is that any way to speak to your lab partner, Leo?”

Fitz gently set down his tech and dropped his arms, turning around to fully face the other man. Unsure of what was happening, Wesley stood still as Fitz slowly made his way over, pointing his finger. “First off, Simmons is my best friend, not yours, so don’t tell me how sarcastic I’m allowed to be. And second,” he paused, lowering his hand, “you do not get to call me that.”

Eyes a little bit wider than when he walked in, Wesley nodded and quickly walked out of the room, feigning casualty. Fitz resumed what he was doing without any more of a scene, not noticing the look his partner was giving him.

“Fitz?” she vocalized, “What was that?”

He looked up, innocent confusion lighting up his face. “What was what?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

\--- --- ---

_ “Mom!” Leopold ran into the kitchen, clutching his creation tightly to his chest. “Look at this!” _

_ She didn’t even spare a glance behind her. “Now now, Leopold, I’m in the middle of something.” _

_ He grunted. “Mooooom.” _

_ “Leopold!” she scolded, finally setting down her iron and turning partially around. She took a breath and spoke gently, smiling, “I’m sorry, honey. I’ll take a look at it after I finish, okay?” _

_ “I guess…” he grumbled. _

_ “Leo!” _

_ Leopold froze. He could hear his dad coming up the hallway. He and his mother turned, preparing to withstand whatever was coming., together. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. It was wet, but he didn’t let go. _

_ His father thundered into the room, grumbling to himself quietly enough that Leopold couldn't hear what he was saying. He avoided his father’s eyes, choosing instead to focus on his socks (which were black and yellow) and his shirt (buttoned up, ironed the previous evening). “Yeah, Dad?" _

_ “Leo, “ he began, just the sound of his voice sinking Leopold’s stomach straight through the floor, “what is that…  _ thing _ in your hand?” _

_ At first, Leopold thought that his father was referring to his mom, completely forgetting about what he had built. He remembered when he followed his father’s gaze down toward his other hand. He lifted it up. “Oh, this? This, uh, this is NI-02. It can-” _

_ Alastair snatched the little creation out of his son’s hand. “I didn’t ask what this thing did. I want to know why the hell you have it out here.” _

_ “I,” Leopold began, words painfully clawing their way through the lump in his chest, “I was going to show it to Mum.” _

_ Alastair took a few steps toward the pair. His mother squeezed his hand, tightly. It hurt a little. “I thought I told you to keep these  _ things _ in your room.” _

_ He shook it in Leopold’s face, who made a choking sound as the pain in his chest shot up through his neck and his vision blurred wet. “I know, sir.” _

_ “Oh, you know, huh?” Alastair continued, “Then why is this thing in my hand? Why am I holding it if it was kept away?” _

_ “I-” _

_ And in one motion, Alastair threw the robot to the floor with an angry might. _

_ Leopold sobbed as he looked down at his creation, in a million pieces on the tiling of the kitchen. With a newfound courage fueled by the injustice of it all, he looked up with tears streaming down his face like a river. _

_ “Why did you do that?” he screamed, small voice cracking, “What did the robot do to you? I made it! I made…” _

_ He stomped his feet, returning his mother’s grip and thensome. “Be proud of me! I made it, be proud, damn it!” _

_ Leopold froze, his body reacting of its own accord as Alastair’s open palm slammed itself across his cheek, knocking him to the floor. He laid there, gasping, crying, confused. He heard yelling - his mother’s? - but his mind was somewhere else. The next sensation he was acutely aware of was being pulled off the floor and against another body. He heard his mother crying. _

_ “It’s okay, Mommy.” he muttered into her stomach, wrapping his arms around her. “Daddy’s just mad.” _

_ “I know, sweetie.” she ran her fingers through his hair, shushing and cooing, “I know.” _

_ Alastair was gone when Leopold woke in the morning. _

\-- -- --

Fitz groaned and let his head fall on the table in front of him.

It seemed like everything was going wrong, and he didn’t know a way to fix any of it. It was nights like these that he just wanted to sit on the couch, maybe watch a movie, eat an overpriced pizza, and have a beer with Mack and Hunter.

But he can’t do that, either.

He misses Hunter.

He was startled out of his reverie by a gentle call of, “Hey”, from the lab doorway. He shot his head back up and spun around in his chair. He nodded and then turned back to what he was working on. “Hey.”

Jemma came up next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You should get some sleep.”

He shook his head. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m fine.”

She tilted her head, giving him a  _ look _ .

“Pinky promise!” he told her, smiling for a moment before sighing, “I just… There has to be a way to… to-to-to.... nullify! Nullify the parasites, and I can find it, I know it-”

“Fitz,” she interrupted him, “if you don’t sleep, you’ll actually be  _ less _ productive, and that won’t help anybody, now will it?”

He shook his head again. “I-”

“It’s not really a suggestion.” she carafied, “You need to go to bed.”

He smiled, despite getting scolded. “Alright. I can’t win this, can I?”

She smiled back, shaking her head now. “No. You can’t.”

He shrugged and got up out of his chair. “I guess I might as well get some sleep, then. Sounds nice.”

“This,” she gestured vaguely around the lab with her head, “will still be here, waiting for us to solve it, in the morning. Pinky promise.”

“I guess.” he took her hands. “I wish there was more we could do. Regardless of what she says, or thinks, she’s just waiting for us to help her get freed from that body-snatching, right walloper of a Ward look-alike.”

“I know.” she assured him, “I get more worried for her every day she’s gone. But Daisy is strong, and Hive isn’t actually  _ hurting  _ her-”

“Yet.”

“-So I’m sure she’ll be okay. We have to have faith in her.” she continued, glossing over Fitz’s sarcasm again. She was so used to it. He felt a fluttering in his stomach, and he squeezed her hands. “Now get some rest. She’d want you to.”

Fitz nodded, and smirked. “Yeah, yeah… but only if you come with me.”

Her smile grew and, for a moment, Fitz couldn’t recall why he had been so worked up. She was right, everything would be okay. “Deal.”

So he kissed her, nothing else he’d done all day had made more sense. And then she spoke, against his lips and almost too quiet for him to hear, “I love you, Leo Fitz.”

Maybe that nickname wasn’t so bad after all.


End file.
